Sinne Fianna Fáil
by vairetwilight
Summary: Through Quidditch, distance and war Harry must struggle to hold onto what he has whilst Quiggley fights to keep what he can't live without. Kamerreons Rare Pairing Challenge. Slash. HPQuigley
1. Green Eyes

**Disclaimer: **As always I still don't own anything. Harry Potter and its affiliates are the property of JKRowling and associates.

**A/N: **This is a response to Kamerreon's rare pairing challenge. I have it planned at 5 or 6 chapters. The pairing is Harry/Quiggley. For those who don't remember Quiggley is a Beater on the Irish Quidditch team. The title of the story comes from a line in the Irish National Anthem, in English it's sung as "Soldiers are we" however the literal translation is "We are the Warriors of Fál (Ireland)". I got the idea for this story from GoF where there is no Irish Minister of Magic present at the World Cup.

**Warnings: **Extremely AU. There is a big age difference however they won't be together until Harry is older. Possible violence in later chapters.

Most of the Italics comes from HPGoF chapter eight (Aust edition)

* * *

Our story starts, unsurprisingly for me, with Quidditch. Though I suppose for Harry it was a rather surprising start. There were many times when he thought he would not survive the war. I don't think he even realised he liked men when we first met. How could he? He was only fourteen. He wasn't old enough to know. Stuck in that time of development when you're no longer a child but not an adult. He wasn't old enough to vote, drink, drive, smoke, apparate, live alone, leave school, nothing. He was a child. And I hated myself.

It all started with Quidditch.

**--**

**His Eyes are Green**

**--**

It's an incredible sensation standing here, waiting for my name to be called, and hearing the roar of the crowd above us. A hundred thousand wizards and witches from all over the world chanting our names, waiting for us, celebrating our victories and defeats. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Oh we knew it would be a tough match. How could it not? But we had to believe in ourselves. We had the world's greatest Chasers, we worked as if of one mind, and our Seeker was not someone to scoff at.

'_And now kindly put your wands in the air ... for the Irish National Team Mascots!'_

'Get ready boys this will be the match of our lives.' Connolly was always the optimist I just wish he knew when to shut up.

I could feel my chest tightening, my heart beating a mile a minute, my palms were sweating. I could hear Lynch vomiting behind me. Ryan and Troy were praying to the goddess for protection and blessing. Moran was attempting to help Lynch and not vomit himself.

'_And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand – Krum!'_

The applause is astounding. Deafening. Lynch vomits again. This boy is the reason that this will be the match of our lives. He is why it was so important that our Chasers were at their best. Lynch was good but Krum ... Krum was born to fly. As if the goddess herself had graced him with wings. I remember his first international match, I sat in the stands as he played Russia, knowing that we are going up against him is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. It would be an honour, and to beat him, that would be something else. We would most likely be the only team in the world to ever beat Viktor Krum as he would only get better with age.

'_And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting – Connolly!'_

And he's gone. Everybody is mounted. Lynch has pulled himself together.

'_Ryan!'_

Four

'_Troy!'_

Three

'_Mullet!'_

Two

'_Moran!'_

Oh goddess give me strength!

'_Quigley!'_

The crowd is incredible. They're focused on our every move. I can feel their eyes on me as I move, the wind is in my face, all around me, wrapping me in its cocoon. The Bulgarians are lined up, their red robes floating gracefully around them. Time has slowed down though I know that it passes swiftly to everyone else.

'_Aaaaaand – Lynch!' _

Poor man, I can only be glad I'm not him.

This is it. The referee is on the pitch. The case is opening. The Balls are released. I swing my bat preparing to move. I can see the boys stretching their fingers. They're incredibly tense. No doubt going through all the plays they've ever practised. Lynch is already searching the sky.

The referee throws the Quaffle into the air and launches himself after it.

'_Theeeeeeeey're OFF! And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!'_

I keep one ear on the commentary as I blast bludgers around the pitch. I know what play will be first. A relatively easy one to help the boys get in the mood. Hawkshead Attacking Formation coupled with the Porskoff Play. Once they score everything will become more intense and it will be all up to the boys to decide what to do.

'_TROY SCORES! Ten-zero to Ireland!'_

Here we go.

Duck.

Weave.

Swing.

Dive.

Aim.

Ivanova gets hit.

'_Thirty-zero to Ireland!'_

Volkov aims and hits. I dive towards it and blast it towards his Keeper. Vokov hits again and the pace picks up. The boys are under constant fire now and it's preventing some of their best moves.

'_IVANOVA scores!'_

'_Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh I say!'_

Krum and Lynch are diving. I hit another bludger and turn back to watch. Krum's pulled up but it was too late for Lynch. He hits the ground with a dull thud and the supporters groan.

'_It's time out as trained medi-wizards hurry onto the pitch to examine Aidan Lynch!'_

Well that will be something to tell his grandchildren. He fell for a Wronski Feint pulled off by THE Viktor Krum. Though I don't suppose that will help him in the long term. I can see it on the boys' faces, they know as well as I do that we have no chance of catching the snitch now. Lynch was ploughed to hard. It would be up to the boys now. I catch Connolly's eyes and motion towards the Chasers, he nods and it's decided. I'd prevent Krum from finding the snitch for as long as possible and he'd look after the Chasers as best he could.

Lynch is on his feet and with the pace the boys have set its obvious they definitely know they're our only chance. Fifteen minutes and ten goals later and things start to get ugly.

'_And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive use of elbows! And – yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!'_

The Veela are pissed. The boys quickly look away and cover their ears as the referee descends to the pitch. At least one good thing about being gay is that I'm not affected by the Veela. I can keep an eye on everyone and not be distracted. Mostafa attempts to send the Veela off the field. I can only wince at the thought of how bad this is going to get, especially with the two additional penalties for Ireland. I'll be covered in bruises for weeks at this rate.

No mercy for the enemy.

Hit.

Swing.

Dive.

Aah! A bludger to the back but at least Moran got out of the way.

The Veela and Leprechauns are fighting now. We'll never hear the end of this from the little buggers. British wizards flood the field attempting to separate them but it will be no use. They're both to stubborn for their own good.

'_Levski – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – MORAN SCORES!'_

You can't hear over the screeching and roaring and bangs. It's as if the world is at its end.

Krum is in view and a Bludger is passing. Lynch is moving. He signals us. He's seen the snitch. Sorry kid, it's been fun but the match is over. One way or another. I swing heavily at the Bludger and it goes soaring across the pitch, Krum can't hear it over the noise of the crowd and the fighting below. It hits his face and I can see the blood pouring from his nose. He's stunned but manages to shake it off. I can't help but be impressed, he definitely has the makings of a Quidditch legend. The referee doesn't notice he's too busy with his broom on fire. That's it; everything is up to Lynch now.

Lynch is diving. The Irish are standing now and screaming for him. Krum is on his tail. They're hurtling towards the ground. This is going to be painful.

Lynch hits the ground. The Veela are stampeding over him. Krum has his fist held up, the snitch's fluttering wings barely visible in his clenched fist, there's blood all over his face and robes.

The supporters seem to realise what's happened as their screams of jubilation fill the air.

'_IRELAND WIN! KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WIN – good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!'_

That's it! The match is over and we've won. The boys will certainly deserve their bonuses after this brutality. The Leprechauns are zooming hysterically around the pitch.

We meet in the middle, the seven of us stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter and jumping around hugging and crying and laughing and dancing. A shower of gold pours down on us. This is it! Our moment of eternal glory! Our last time in a major match together. Lynch is sure to retire, the crashes are leaving him dazed for longer and longer and soon he won't be able to keep going. Best he get out on a high. We mount our brooms again for a lap of honour. We're trying to soak up as much of the happiness as we can.

'_And as the Irish team perform a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!'_

The Bulgarians names are called out as they enter the box one by one. And we're zooming over for our turn. When we get off Moran and Connolly have to hold Lynch up, he's dazed but happy. Troy and I are pushed towards the cup, here it is, what we've been working towards for the last four. Sweat, blood, tears, everything, for this moment. We lift the cup and the crowd roars. The boys pile onto our backs all reaching out to touch the coveted cup and I glance around the box for a second.

---

Do you believe in love at first sight? I hadn't until that moment. I didn't even know who he was. He could have been there for any number of reasons. A Bulgarian family member, the son of an important politician or rich Lord, a family friend of one of the other people in the box. It didn't matter. All that mattered was his eyes. Vibrant emerald green eyes.

I'm standing in the Top Box, a hundred thousand witches and wizards are watching me, I've just won the Quidditch World Cup, I'm holding it in my hands and he's all I can see. He's all that matters. It's as if in the second it takes for our eyes to meet my whole world has been rearranged. He's all that matters and I think I'm insane for even considering it. I take a second to survey the rest of him, well what I can see from where I'm standing anyway. A pale face, long black, shaggy hair, he's short from what I can tell. And young. Oh goddess he's so young.

I hate myself in that second. He's so young. But I can't help it. He's beautiful, perfect, and oh so young.

The boys are moving. It's time for another lap of honour. Time to thank the fans. I don't want to move. I want to stay here forever staring into his eyes.

I'm a fool.

I leave anyway.


	2. His name is Harry

**A/N: **And here is chapter two. Thank you to everyone who reviewed or alerted. I should just warn you this is the first time I've ever done a fic that is predominantly in 1st person and does not sow Harry's p.o.v. at all. So if you find any dodgy bits let me know and i'll try to fix it up. Enjoy.

* * *

---

His name is Harry ...

---

The first signs of trouble were slow in reaching the party we were part of amongst the Irish fans. Screams were difficult to hear over the laughter and music and shouting. When we finally did realise what was happening our coach had us split up and run. Staying to help would only get us killed or injured and with such high profiles it may just make things worse.

So we ran.

Somehow I ended up in the forest. How I got there is still a blur. Most people had already pushed further into the forest by the time I made it. I lost Troy on the way. I can only hope Mullet and Connolly still had Lynch.

Turning another corner in the dense forest I saw him again. I knew it was him immediately. I've never seen eyes like his anywhere else. He was standing alone by the edge of the path. His arm was bleeding and he held his glasses in his hands. He was calling for someone but I couldn't hear who.

I approached him as quickly as possible without actually running. Running would only serve to possibly injure me or frighten him.

"You shouldn't be here. You need to move further in."

Not exactly the first thing I ever wanted to say to the green eyed boy but it was, at that moment, the most pressing thing.

He looked at me and seemed puzzled by my presence. As if he couldn't quite understand why I was there.

"Please! You need to move further in."

I grabbed his hand and started tugging. Presumptuous it may seem but I didn't want to risk it... risk him. Not when I had just found him. Not when I had yet to even learn his name.

He started following me of his own free will as we went further into the forest. My wand was lit and carried in front of us. Screams from the camp and the forest were still audible. It was terrifying. I felt so inadequate. I should have been out there helping people. Protecting people.

"Thank you," his voice was soft and startled me out of my thoughts.

"What were you doing alone?" Though most likely not the most important question it was still the one that bothered me the most. What irresponsible person left him to fend for himself amongst this chaos?

"I was separated from my friends. Their father went to help the Muggles. My glasses broke and my wand is missing. I was waiting to see if they would return."

I hummed as I thought over his answer. It was then that I noticed that he was squinting still.

"Pass your glasses and I'll fix them."

He silently passes them. His sense of direction is slightly off as he holds them a little to the side of where I stood.

_Reparo_

"You should probably buy the potion to fix your eyes. If these events are a sign of what's coming then you wouldn't want to risk being caught blind."

"I suppose not."

We fell into silence again. It was strangely peaceful despite the fact we had stopped moving and were sitting in the middle of a dark forest, with Death Eaters in the camp and no way to know if we were safe or not. There was rustling in the trees and I tensed as I waited to see what would happen, my grip on my wand tightening as I inched my way across to where he sat so I could protect him should something happen.

"_Morsmordre!"_

"Shit! Run!"

I didn't give him a chance to respond before I grabbed his hand and took off further into the forest. I may have been young during the first war but even I knew what that curse was. There was no way I would let us be caught around here. I could hear him stumbling slightly behind me, his breaths coming in pants as he tried to keep up with me, I reached around grabbing him by the waist before pulling him into my arms and carrying him. It may slow me down but we wouldn't be separated.

I kept running until I felt we were far enough away, finally slowing down and eventually stopping. Despite this I kept an arm wrapped around his waist, both to assure me that he was there and okay and to be able to make a quick getaway should this place prove to be unsafe.

"I don't understand. What was that?"

"The Dark Mark! Lord Voldemort's symbol. It was cast by his followers whenever they attacked. When a person saw the mark over their home they knew everybody inside would be dead or worse. That's the first time it's been seen in thirteen years. The Ministry wizards would shoot first and ask questions later if we were found anywhere near that."

He seems to understand. He stays quiet whilst I keep up a surveillance of our area. It's a tense quietness, we're both waiting for something to go horribly wrong. After a while however, with no sound of movement anywhere near us I start to relax, loosening the grip on my wand. I can feel him relax slightly in my hold, deflating as if all the energy has been drained out of him. Without adrenalin pumping through my veins I can feel the effort the run through the forest has taken on my body. It must be so much worse for him though. With that thought in mind I drag us over to a tree before sinking to the ground pulling him with me.

"I'm Harry."

Harry. He doesn't look like a Harry but then again I'm no expert on English names.

"Names Dubhlainn. Everyone just calls me Dove."

"Strange name."

"There's a lot of meaning and history behind it though. Translation is Black Sword. He was a very interesting figure in Irish history."

"You're Irish?"

"Born and bred."

With that we fell silent. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. How did he feel sitting in the middle of nowhere with a man he didn't know and couldn't even pronounce the name of? Did he think of his friends? Was he simply waiting for me to relax so he could run? What did he think of me? So many questions it would be a miracle if I ever manage to concentrate on our surroundings.

His voice broke through my thoughts. Small questions of little relevance. Where I went to school. What my family was like. I began telling him stories of the ancestors. Myths and legends of both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Our voices floated around the clearing, soft yet clear. He fell asleep against my side as I was telling him another tale. It was surprising how long he managed to last. Settling into a more comfortable position I prepared to wait out the rest of the night. We could head back to the camp grounds in the morning.

---

The trek back through the forest is tiring. There's no adrenalin to make us faster. I'm surprised by how far we managed to make it in the dark. Sunlight filters through the trees lighting a path back to the campsite, it highlights the trees, shrubs and roots we crashed through and fell over last night.

The camp was in chaos still. People waited along the tree lines searching for family members. They pushed others out of their way, grabbed people who looked similar. There was no organisation. I tightened my hold on Harry's hand, dragging his smaller body closer to me as we searched for the people he came with. My need to protect him was nearly overwhelming but I would do everything I could to see him out of this mess safely.

Once we cleared the first ring of searchers I allowed him to direct me towards where his tent had been. The family he had come with were still there, children sitting quietly as the father and older brothers debated how they would search for their missing members. I felt Harry's hand tighten around mine as if afraid I would abandon him now he was back where he belonged.

He'll have to beat me off with a stick.

"Harry!"

The name was gasped but it caught everybody's attention. A young girl stood as if to run towards him but was prevented by one of the twins sitting with her. The father came to us, pulling Harry into a hug before releasing him and checking for injuries.

"Are Ron and Hermione with you?"

Hmm so those must be the friends that were separated from him. I feel Harry fidget against me. Clearly he doesn't want to talk about it.

"I haven't seen them since we entered the forest," Harry shrugs, "Dove found me and kept me safe."

The statement draws attention to me. Harry certainly knows how to deflect unwanted questions. Pity they're deflected at me. Just as the father is about to speak to me Ludo Bagman comes running in our direction, two children trailing behind him.

"Arthur my dear man I found two of yours!"

I must assume these are the friends. Bagman's eyes widen as he sees me, and even more so when he sees the boy with his hand in mine.

"Quigley! The Irish camp is moving out. They're just waiting on you and Moran to show up." I nod quickly hopefully he'll leave now. I know the red haired family didn't hear my name but Harry certainly did, I could feel him freeze in my arms. But no he stays. This can only get worse.

"And Harry my boy so good to see you safe and sound. Imagine Harry Potter lost in the forest with Death Eaters around. The search would have been a logistical nightmare."

Oh shit! I think my heart just stopped beating. Harry ... is ... is Harry Potter!

I'm so dead.

---

... Harry Potter

---


	3. Letters

**A/N: **Sorry this has taken so long to come out but its just been one of Those weeks. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially to Erroneously and excentrykemuse for reminding me about Harry's wand. This chapter is made up of a series of letters sent by Dove to Harry. They are only some of the letters exchanged over this time. They start after the Quidditch World Cup and end two weeks after Harrys sixteenth birthday. So TIME SKIP

* * *

Harry

Thank you for letting me know you returned safely. Have you heard any news about your wand yet? How long do you have left until you return to school? Hopefully the journey will be far safer.

The team has returned to Ireland and it has been celebration after celebration the entire time. I'll be returning to my normal team for training for next season in September.

Things are a strange mixture of excitement and tenseness over here at the moment. It reminds of that line "Something wicked this way comes."

Stay safe and write to me soon

Dove

* * *

Harry

These nightmares sound dreadful. I don't mind if you keep writing to me about them. It may help you sleep better at night.

About your wand, I've never heard of one turning up like that. You're sure that it just appeared? And that it's definitely your wand? If so I wouldn't say anything to anyone else. With times as dangerous as they are now, your wand having the ability to find you when separated can only be a positive thing. An added advantage in dangerous situations. As long as nobody else knows than they will be unable to prevent it from happening again.

I have to go now but we'll talk soon

Dove

* * *

Harry,

Hogwarts sounds like an interesting place. I was schooled over here so I've never seen it. Many students are home schooled so classes were relatively small. I know the names of your school founders but little else about them. Feel free to tell me what you wish.

The tournament sounds interesting. Dangerous as well, especially if they have made an age barrier. When such large schools compete there will be a lot of national and school pride involved and such feelings can escalate violence and tension.

I don't mind the questions. It's spelt Dubhlainn. But Dove is easier for English speakers to say and understand. I'd prefer not to have my name mangled on a daily basis. I'm 22, old enough to know better but young enough not to care, as me mam likes to say.

Tell me how the tournament goes.

Dove

* * *

Harry

Are you alright?

I couldn't understand half the letter. The writing was too smudged.

Write soon

Dove

* * *

Oh Harry

I'm so sorry for you. It seems as if the gods have it in for you. If your friend has taken such a stance then clearly he wasn't as true to you as you believed. I know it sounds harsh and for that I'm sorry but you deserve better than what he's given you. In times of strife and adversity you learn who your true friends are. It's better to know now then when his actions may mean life or death.

For what it's worth I believe you. Unfortunately it is often the case that man lets jealousy guide him. I haven't spoken to my older brother for five years for that reason. Quidditch was his passion but I inherited the talent. Hopefully i'll be able to make it to the First Task. I don't believe there is a match or training scheduled for that day.

Be extra careful now. You were put in that tournament for a reason. I'd prefer if you came out of it as well.

Dove

* * *

Harry

You're an incredible flyer. Such raw talent. Have you ever thought of a career in Quidditch before? When did you first learn to fly?

It was such an interesting experience to see Viktor Krum in another other than Quidditch. Off a broom he appears an entirely different person. Though I suppose that would be true of any player. There's a certain freedom in the air that brings out our more baser instincts. It's always amusing to see Connolly swearing up a storm on the pitch when off it he's the most polite and soft spoken person you will ever come across.

I'm not sure if it would be considered appropriate for me to meet you in Hogsmeade. I'm a grown man and people might find it somewhat suspect. There's a difference between writing letters and meeting in person. I don't want to cause any problems for you, besides could you imagine the speculation it would cause in the newspapers. You have enough problems with the press to deal with as it is, you certainly don't need a scandal with me as well.

Dove

* * *

Harry

You were right. I'm an idiot.

Hogsmeade was incredible. I loved seeing your school even if it was from a distance. Please thank Viktor again for me. His assistance in providing a reason for my presence saved us a lot of trouble. At least now I only have to deal with disgruntled supporters accusing me of attempting to steal Viktor from the Bulgarian league as opposed to masses of angry adults accusing me of preying on and attempting to pervert their beloved Boy-Who-Lived. I think rabid fangirls are much easier to handle.

We're in Cromwell for the next match.

Dove

* * *

Harry

I know she may not be who you want to go the Ball with but you may as well just ask her. It would be a lot more embarrassing if you show up without a date. Let her know you're going just as friends and dance with her at least three times. That way she still has fun without putting expectations on you for a relationship. It will be as important a night for her as it will be for you so show her a good time.

Ask your friend Hermione if she knows how to dance and if she'll teach you. It's an important skill in life. Good for Quidditch as well (and those dead boring parties you have to go to with the team sponsors).

Most importantly have fun and Happy Christmas. Your gift will be there on Christmas morning.

Dove

* * *

Harry

I'm leaving for Moscow in the morning. We're having a friendly game. I won't be back in time to see the Second Task. You'll do fine though. You're as prepared as you're going to get. Your Potions Professor has told you how to use the Gillyweed and you know that you have to find something precious belonging to you at the bottom of the lake. I gave it some more thought; do you think it could be a person? Whilst an object can be important to you it is possible to just buy it again. You can't replace a person though, and if they die they "won't come back." Not to say that they would die after the hour. The organisers would need their permission for them to take part and they certainly wouldn't allow them to die. It would cause an international incident.

Anyway good luck on the task, tell me how it goes and Happy Valentine's day in advance.

Dove

* * *

Har

I told you you'd do fine. I'm glad you liked the gift. I saw it when we were in Moscow and thought of you. The Russian wizards are excellent craftsmen.

The game went well. It's always an exhilarating experience to play in front of so many people. Though it's strange to hear the commentary in Russian, there's always a delay on the translation coming through on our ear pieces. I still don't understand why the International Quidditch Association does not allow translator spells to be put on each player, it would make things so much easier.

I've heard of Mad-Eye Moody before (who hasn't?) but it seems that retirement has not been kind to him. Be careful around him, paranoia can do strange things to people.

Dove

* * *

H

Will be at third task

Dove

* * *

Harry

My heart hurts for you. I still have trouble understanding how the Headmasters and teachers managed to allow such a thing to happen. I know you will probably not feel like talking much at the moment. Some things are simply too hard to express in words. Some feelings are too raw to want to share. I want you to know that if you ever feel the need to rant or talk or just have someone listen to you without comment then I'm here for you. I'm always here for you.

Let me know that you're ok (or at least that you're alive) even if it's just one sentence.

Dove

* * *

Happy Birthday

I'm glad to know you loved Ireland so much. It's always fun to see people visit for the first time. Thank your godfather for me. It was so good to have you around for a while. My mother has not stopped talking about what a sweet heart you are. I'm surprised she didn't ask you to marry her whilst you were here. Perhaps next time I'll be able to show you more of it.

The tickets are for you and Snuffles to come see the game with the Hollyhead Harpies. Tell him to use a glamour to disguise himself and the attached portkey will take you from your home straight to the box seats. If it's too much of a risk then at least ask your friend Remus to take you. It's the top box so the security is excellent, the only way in is with one of the portkeys and they'll only activate for the designated number of people.

See you soon

Dove

* * *

Har

The new teacher sounds like a beast. I suppose she is part of the fraction in the Ministry that stands with Fudge in his disbelief to the return of Voldemort. It's unfortunate that people allow such morons to take positions of power.

So training with Unspeakables. That sounds like it will be an interesting experience. Just remember that you're still young, don't try to take too much responsibility now because soon enough it will be thrust upon you.

Dove

* * *

Harry

These dreams are troubling. In a world such as ours we cannot take such dreams for granted. They mean something even if we don't quite know what. If you don't feel comfortable talking to your Headmaster then keep a record of the dreams, what happens and how often you have the dream. Try and write it down whenever it wakes you up. It may give you clues if you look back at it.

Dreams and nightmares are our minds way of dealing with reality. I don't think it's that surprising you're still having nightmares about the graveyard. It was a traumatic experience. Having nightmares means that you're mind is trying to deal with it. Such an experience will have left quite a mark on you and whilst when you're awake you push it to the back of your mind when your asleep you don't have the same luxury. Things will get better eventually.

Mam also asked me to send on the dream catcher that's attached. It's not how we would normally deal with dreams and nightmares such as yours but we didn't think sending on alcohol would be such a good idea considering you're in a school.

Dove

* * *

What happened to Mr Weasley was not your fault.

I'll be there the day after Christmas

Dove

* * *

Har

I miss you.

It seems that lately neither of us ever has the time to talk.

Have fun with your study group and good luck with the training exercise.

Dove

* * *

Harry

What the hell were you thinking?!! A Quidditch ban! If that's not reversed then the likelihood of you ever being able to get a place on a professional team is slim. You've got so much talent and it will all go to waste.

Fuck Harry! What the hell did he say to you to get such a response? You're usually so level headed.

Dove

* * *

I'm in Hogsmeade next weekend.

Think you can sneak out?

Dove

* * *

Remus just told me what happened. You did what you thought was best at the time. Sometimes that's enough and sometimes it's not.

Sirius loved you. Nothing you can say or do could possibly change that. Having fought with him doesn't change the fact that he loved and adored you. I saw how he felt for you the moment I met him. I know you often thought he saw you as James' replacement and I know that hurt you a lot but he was at his most coherent when you were around him. Remus confided in me that he thought when Sirius was with you was the only times he was truly free of Azkaban. That place does strange things to people and he was there for a long time. I didn't know him long or well but I know that he would have gone after you even if he knew it was the last thing he would do.

Remus is trying to get me access to the school. If it doesn't work then I'll be waiting at Kings Cross for you to get off the train.

Love Dove

* * *

Har

I'm back in Ireland. That restlessness and tension that you felt in the air when you were here has escalated. Now that the British have finally recognised the return of Voldemort they've started conscripting Irish boys into their Auror squads and then shipping them to Britain. Things are going to get ugly soon. The Quidditch teams have come to a unanimous vote that we will no longer play in the British league as long as they keep taking our boys.

There's a lot of resentment, there always has been, when it comes to the British. If they don't get their act together there's going to be a lot of trouble.

In other news my brother has moved back home. Things are tense but they're starting to get better. Mam threatened to lock us in the room until we sorted out our problems. Then she went on a rant about how much trouble we are, how she brought us into this world and she could take us out and then somehow it switched to how well behaved and respectful you were. Then she turned on me wanting to know when you'd be back. Be prepared for another letter from her, she walked away mumbling about writing to her baby.

Take care

Dove

* * *

Happy Birthday

I can't believe how much time has managed to pass. It seems a lifetime ago that I found you in the forest and not simply two years. I'm sorry I couldn't be there today but work is a demanding task mistress.

I hope you enjoy the gift. I know you've said before that one of the Unspeakables trained you in swordsmanship. I thought a black sword would be fitting. I never told you the legend associated with my name have I? Legend has it that Dubhlainn loved the fairy queen and legendary harpist Aoibhell. Aoibhell fell in love with the mortal man and worried over him so she gave him her cloak of invisibility to wear in battle. I figure since you already have the invisibility cloak you need your own black sword to fight for you. Dubhlainn dedicated his life to protecting the fairy queen, I'd do the same for you but I know you can protect yourself.

Happy Birthday. Hopefully I'll see you soon.

Dubhlainn

* * *

Aoibhell

I can't tell you enough how sorry I am for what is about to occur. I can only hope that you find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me eventually. I'm sorry for the pain and difficulty coming events will cause you but I beg you to understand. Please remember not everything you hear or read is true. Sometimes life gives us a certain chance and we must seize it. You know some things are worth more than life and death, more than all the riches in the world, more than your own happiness. This is one of those things. I only wish it was less at your expense but we have waited long enough and a chance like this will not come again.

There are so many things I wish I could have said to you, so many things I had dreamt we could experience together. I can picture all of them slipping through my grasp.

It is unavoidable.

Remember you are constantly on my mind. Should you ever need me simply write or call.

All my love,

Dubhlainn.

* * *

**Daily Prophet: Special Edition**

**Irish Uprising!**

_In the early hours of this morning Irish rebels in conjunction with the Muggle Republic of Ireland Ministry and the terrorist organisation the I.R.A. (Irish Republican Army), laid siege to the Irish offices of the Ministry of Magic. Within minutes the local Auror forces had joined the rebels and helped to detain British workers. _

_All transport mechanisms were immediately closed and Aurors were sent out to other prominent locations of British control. A statement has been released with a set of demands for the complete relinquishing of Irish assets held by the Ministry of Magic to the newly instated "Irish Ministry of Magic". The statement claims that the Irish population is prepared to go to war with their "unlawful foreign oppressors" should their demands not be met, with the full support of their Muggle counterparts. _

_Minister of Magic Rufus Scrigemour has declined comment. Speculation circulates that the uprising is supported by You-Know-Who in his attempt to remove support from the Ministry whose Auror forces contain a large percentage of Irish men and women. More updates will come as the situation progresses. _


	4. For the sake of the many

**A/N: **Here's the next segment. There's one more chapter and then an epilogue left in the story. Originally this was going to be the final chapter apart from the epilogue but it seemed to run away from me whilst I wrote it, so in the end the chapter hadn't reached where it needed to. But good news for you is that you get an extra chapter, half of which I have already written. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and enjoy.

* * *

---

For the sake of the many...

---

It's been two years since I've heard from Harry. Two years since the article appeared in the Daily Prophet and destroyed everything I had been working towards. Two years in which he never responded to my letter or the following two letters I had sent in the first few months after the article, whether of his own volition or not I still do not want to know. From the little I've heard from my mother Harry still writes to her once a month, he never asks about me and they never talk of the war. It's to be expected but still hurts like hell.

I think the biggest issue Harry had with the rebellion was that we benefited from Voldemort's actions. As long as he caused disruption in Britain we had a greater chance of securing Irish independence but that meant that Harry would have to fight and suffer for longer. We knew we would never receive independence from either the British ministry or from Voldemort. Our only chance was to take it by force whilst they had their attention split. A lot of articles in the newspapers in Britain declared that we had sided with Voldemort or that Ireland was his stronghold. Allegation after allegation. Those that didn't print such rubbish and supported our plight didn't seem to understand why it had to be now. Why couldn't we just wait until Britain sorted out its own problems and then take action?

Two years sleeping in fields and marshes as foreign Aurors held raids on Irish Wizarding houses. Where anyone found hiding or supporting rebels were captured and brought to new magical internment camps in Britain and other western Magical countries. We would have finished the war much quicker except half of our forces had to be used to protect the new government. I fought alongside Muggles, former Aurors, Healers, Druids, Former Unspeakables and other Ministry workers. People from every walk of life and economic status all brought together.

Two years to the day that I sent that last letter we received a request from the Order of the Phoenix for a meeting to discuss "our little dispute". You could already tell that it would get off to a good start; they undermine our cause even as they attempt to ask for help. Well if they want help they can come to us.

---

I don't think any of us actually expected them to come yet here we are meeting in a group of isolated fields just south of Dublin. It's a perfect meeting spot as we can see them coming from any angle and they'd have nowhere to hide should they bring more people than the stipulated seven. Of course it does help that we have Muggle marksmen who can hide further out and still be able to shoot them if they try something funny.

An hour after we arrived, the first pop of apparition sounded. The quietness of your arrival when you apparate is supposed to be a mark of how powerful you are. The quieter, the more dangerous. There was a certain randomness to the volume of those arriving that said it was done deliberately. They were trying to throw us off, confuse us as to the strength of the people present. Did they truly underestimate us to such an extent that they thought we would not see through such a blatant trick?

Harry arrives at the same time as Dumbledore. Dumbledore I only recognise from those few distant glances I had of him in the time I spent with Harry. However, I would recognise Harry anywhere, no matter how much time has passed. His hair is longer and speckled with premature greying. He holds himself differently, he's more tense. New scars cover his face and what I can see of his arms. He doesn't wear glasses anymore. But his eyes ... they show both the biggest changes and the least. They show wisdom that comes only through struggle and hardship yet they still contain that otherworldliness that captured me when I first saw him. I fell in love with those eyes, I'm still in love with those eyes.

We all move closer to the British wizards and witches. Closing in on them from all sides. I can see some of them shifting nervously. Others seem completely unfazed except for a tightening of the muscles in their shoulders. Those ones look ready to drop and roll at a moment's notice. That means they are most likely Aurors or Unspeakables. I move myself until I'm as close to Harry as I can get. I don't think any of those he's with have recognised me, though from the smirks my boys are shooting me I can tell they know who he is.

Dumbledore starts to speak but I don't really hear what he is saying. I don't need to hear what he is saying. My job is simply to make sure those with him don't try anything. And if I should devote extra attention to Harry, well he is the most powerful person present. I'm sure I'll be forgiven for focusing on him.

I'm not sure how much time has passed with me staring at Harry and him avoiding my eyes. I'm only pulled back into reality when I feel one of the boys shift against my back. Flicking my eyes around I can see that everyone on my side has become tense ... well more tense. I focus on what Dumbledore is saying and hiss. The man is a fool. Yet still he continues to spout off about the greater good.

"We will accept nothing less than full capitulation by the British Ministry!" Finally Dumbledore is cut off. Our spokesperson has a lot of patience but even she cannot deal with him for long. She's young, only a year or so older than me, but she's smart, politically savvy. She'll be the first official Irish Minister of Magic when the war is over. The only thing preventing her from being in charge of the provisional government at the moment is her belief that she has no right to govern people she has not fought for. So she's spent the last year and a half out amongst the fighting.

"Now, my dear, surely you can see reason. Voldemort," a shudder runs through most of the people he brought with him, "threatens the lives of innocent people. He's thrown England into complete turmoil and destabilises society. Surely –"

" – surely you realise, Dumbledore, that Voldemort has done nothing to us. He threatens the lives and stability of a society that oppresses us. We gain nothing from helping you fight off Voldemort, just as we will gain nothing if he wins. We would rather see Voldemort terrorising you for a hundred years than to..."

I stop paying attention to her words as I see one of the men Dumbledore brought with him reaching for his wand. I don't think he realises I've seen him. Everyone else seems distracted, either by what is being said or by watching the opposition. I slowly move into a crouching position and shift my body closer to the man. Harry notices my movement and I can feel his eyes on me. I shift again and watch the man bring his wand up, lining it up with where she stands. I can tell Harry has seen him by the way he suddenly stills. I realise that this moment means a lot more than I thought. If Harry moves to the left I have a clear path to the man and I'm covered from attack. If he moves to the right the man and several others will see me but I won't be able to see him.

I hold my breath. Time seems to slow down.

The man waits for a clear shot. Opens his mouth to begin his spell.

Harry moves to the left.

I pounce.

My body springs from its place crouched on the ground. Two, three bounds and I'm across the few meters between us and on top of the man. His wand goes flying as I push him into the ground. He dazed from my weight crashing into him and the crash to the ground.

I can feel it as everyone else takes action. The Minister-to-be will have been pushed to the back of the group, the boys and girls will have pulled their wands or guns on the Order members, the marksmen we have out in the fields will have taken aim and will have their fingers hovering over the trigger. What happens next depends entirely on the Order, they can either lower their wands or be prepared for a blood bath.

All of us are prepared to die for our cause. We may not want to but we are prepared to. Somehow I don't think the Order members here are prepared to die for this particular cause. I'm sure they would be if it was Death Eaters standing across from them.

Everything is quiet. I feel movement coming up on my side from where Harry should be. I hold my breath from where I'm still perched on the man beneath me. My muscles flex with every struggle he makes. He won't get free though. After all my years as a Beater and then the last two years in the wilderness, he has no chance of physically removing me against my will. The person stops at my shoulder.

It's Harry at my side. I know that even before Dumbledore murmurs his name in warning. I can feel the heat of his body along my side. He still smells the same. Like a forest in the middle of winter or rain in the summer. He smells of nature, of mystery (if mystery had a smell), of trees who've seen the passing of ages and waves that have crashed upon countless shores. He smells of home, he always has.

He presses against my side for but a moment. But it feels the same as it had from the first time I touched him. Magic rushes across our skin, leaving behind a tingling feeling. And then we're no longer touching.

"Dumbledore," Harry's voice has changed so much. It's deeper, richer, and older, there's a certain raspy quality to it that's unnatural and I'm terrified of how it could have been caused. "If you can't offer them what they want then you're wasting all our time."

"It's not that simple Harry. There's –"

"It is that simple," Harry cuts him off and I'm impressed by the confidence in his voice. "I've been kept up to date about what's happening. There's only two British strongholds left and they'll fall within the next two months. You're delaying the inevitable and it's better we concede and get their help than fight a losing battle and be left stranded."

I can't stop the smile that bursts across my face after he says that. I remember saying something similar to mam in a letter I sent her two weeks ago. About how the British would be fools not to negotiate now when they're about to lose it all. Truly the only reason we are negotiating is because of the internment camps in Britain. The chances of us ever seeing those who have been taken is slim if we don't get an agreement from the British.

I glance up to see Harry staring at Dumbledore with intense eyes. Directing my sight to Dumbledore I see him frowning and clearly thinking over what has been said. It says something for Harry's power and influence if he could get even Dumbledore to see reason, or at least contemplate it. Dumbledore must have made some sort of gesture as his men all lower their wands and step back, Harry heads over to Dumbledore as I move to get up. I pull the man I was on off the ground but then hook my arm around his neck in what would be a strangle hold should I exert any pressure. Better safe than sorry.

We stand in the field for another three hours as negotiations come to an end. The moon is high above us and a gentle breeze floats around us. All of a sudden they're shaking hands and stepping apart. None of the men with me dare to smile or have any sort of hope as Dumbledore disapparates. We've come so close too many times to get excited any more. It makes the fall out hurt even more. The Order members start to leave as well and I let go of the man I've been detaining for the last few hours. The boys start to leave as well, walking across the fields to where we've set up untraceable portkeys.

Harry still stands across from me. I don't notice anything else. He's there; he's not a dream; he's alive.

My hand twitches as if to reach out for him.

He's gone.

---

...we sacrifice the few.

---


	5. This is home

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited or alerted this story. Each ruled line can be considered a time skip looking at different periods. I wasn't sure how this was going to turn out, I finished the chapter today after I broke up with my girlfriend so for a while it was not going to be a happy ending, then I got it back on track, but some of the... angst ... may still be seen at the end of the chapter. Next chapter is the epilogue. Read and Review.

* * *

---

_This is home..._

---

There's silence on the British front. There have been no attacks but there's also been no withdrawal. There's no sign of the agreed terms for peace being fulfilled. It's been three days and not even a murmur of the agreement can be heard in Britain. I have the feeling it has all been for nothing. Except for seeing Harry again it was a waste of our time.

I get a letter from Harry. It's simple, hell it's practically a scribble.

_Dove_

_I understand. _

_Harry_

Those two words express so much. And as cliché as it sounds the world is suddenly a brighter place. Not that anything has changed perse, the war continues, I'm still sleeping in ditches and dreary camps, but all of a sudden I have hope that the end is near. There's a possibility of something waiting for me at the end. The feeling is indescribable.

* * *

Dumbledore is a bastard. We were right not to expect anything to come of the agreement made with him. Everything was a lie. It was nothing but empty promises. Even worse Dumbledore himself ordered a raid on a house in Kerry. Another three people to add to our dead. They weren't even part of the resistance, just a normal Irish wizarding family trying to get by.

* * *

It's been two days since the first letter, five days since the meeting. I don't understand how things could have gotten so bad so quickly. The war continues as if it had not slowed, if anything it is even more vicious. I get another note. It comes to me though there is no name mentioned on the note, the only way I know it comes from Harry is because I recognise his writing.

_Supply pick up. Three men. 2a.m. Dock 15._

However ambiguous the note was I knew what he was talking about. If it had been intercepted by anyone they wouldn't have understood where the pickup point was. Dock 15, I had brought Harry stargazing once when he was visiting me, on Dock 15 in Dublin Harbour. Looks like we had a raid to do.

* * *

Small messages arrive every day or so. All of them are similar, telling me where pickups and such were taking place, when to move the camp or to avoid a certain part of the country. There was never anything personal in them but at this stage it didn't matter. Harry understood and was helping us. That meant so much more than a bunch of words written on parchment.

* * *

The news that Scrimgeour was dead came as a surprise. Of course we'd been waiting for this day since he came into office. With that man in office we would never have been able to relax once the war was over. Kingsley Shacklebolt had become the new Minister in Britain. It was as if the tides had turned in our favour. I remember Shacklebolt from when I stayed with Harry in Britain, Sirius had been completely besotted by the man. With Harry's next letter it was confirmed that things could only be getting better. Harry believed Shacklebolt was willing to concede to our demands.

Harry and Shacklebolt have an interesting relationship. They had worked together whilst Harry was being trained by the Unspeakables, sparing partners I believe. Then of course there was his relationship with Sirius, sometimes I can't help but reflect that perhaps it was not as one sided as I had believed. All in all, it meant that Shacklebolt and Harry were close, Shacklebolt trusted Harry, but I think most importantly for our cause, Shacklebolt was on Harry's side and not Dumbledore's.

So it didn't seem as great a surprise to me when one week, two days after Shacklebolt became Minister, a month after I had seen Harry again, and two years and six weeks after I sent that final letter to Harry the war ended.

We were free.

* * *

Harry's war picked up its pace. It seemed that now that the Ministry only had one side to fight and direct its attentions at they suddenly seemed to realise just how far they had let Voldemort go.

Ireland was stabilising itself and crafting its new independent identity and little was heard of the fighting in Britain. I think after all the years of struggle nobody cared what happened to them. So weeks would go by without any news.

* * *

We were slow to disband the camps, it was as if the entire capitulation was a trick and we were waiting to have the rug pulled out from under us. To suspicious to go home and potentially bring the ire of the British down on our families. For some there was no home to go to and others were uncertain how to integrate back into families they had not seen for months if not years. Those of us who had been in it from the beginning had it the worse. I was terrified of going back home, I was so disillusioned by life and the politics of war that I didn't trust that they would keep their word.

Finally I make it home. It's late at night and my good for nothing brother and my mam are sitting in the kitchen having dinner. I walk in, sit down and start serving myself some of the food. Nothing is said. They act as if I haven't been gone for two years. Part of me is thankful but the other part just wants some sort of recognition. When it's all over and mam finishes cleaning up and is about to leave the room she stops behind me and wraps her arms around me, pulling me close to her chest.

"It's good to have you home," it's whispered in my ear and means more to me than I thought it possibly could have.

* * *

Harry apparates into the kitchen in the middle of breakfast. Mam had added him to the wards when he first came to visit. He's covered in blood and slash marks. His left arm is broken and dangling by his side. He's swaying.

We sit him down and clean him up. Nothing is said. I'm not even sure if he's able to talk. We heal him as best we can and I put him in my bed to sleep.

* * *

Harry is gone when we wake up.

* * *

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. Harry stops sending letters to either me or mam. News of disappearances in Britain drifts over to us. The non-magicals are taking keen interest in the events. They find it scarily similar to the events which had happened in Ireland over the last two years. There is, however, no distinct news from Britain. No progress reports. The former detainees of the internment camps have all returned to Ireland. From the wizarding community there is silence.

* * *

It's still dark out when I'm disturbed from my sleep. I can feel the wards on the house flexing. Someone had entered and exited the house. Rolling over I see a letter sitting on the stand. There's only one person who would leave a letter and be able to get through the wards intact. Harry had been here.

_Dubhlainn _

_I'm putting a stop to the war. No doubt you will hear the result, either way, in the next few days. I'm sorry for the last few years. At first I didn't understand and by the time I did it seemed too late. Since seeing you though I've come to realise I was wrong, it's never too late to tell someone how you feel. Will you wait for me should I come back?_

_Aoibhell_

* * *

I'm at the new Ministry grounds when the first notices come through. The British civil war has been over for more than a day. It's been four days since Harry left the letter. It takes another hour before we find out who won; the Ministry and Order of the Phoenix. There's no news of Harry. Nobody has seen him.

* * *

I go home.

* * *

I go to the Ministry.

* * *

I go home.

* * *

I go to the Ministry.

* * *

I go to England. Grimmauld Place to be exact.

It's carnage.

People, both living and dead, are everywhere. I start to help sort through and heal the masses. Some of the Order members recognise me, they seem not quite sure how to act and so simply ignore my presence. Harry's not here.

I do the same the next day and the next.

It's obvious to me now that Harry won't be found in England.

I go home.

* * *

Harry is sitting on my bed.

* * *

---

_... where I belong_

---


	6. Always Quidditch

**A/N: **I swear I didn't mean to leave you all for so long. My internet decided to die on the 13th after having its death throes over the few days beforehand. It's now the 25th (at 5.50pm) and its the first time I've had internet. I'm as surprised as you all are that there has been news of the mass homicide/suicide of my family. But here's the final chapter, its been finished since the 12th, I have learnt my lesson about not publishing immeadiately upon finishing a chapter. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed.

* * *

**_Always Quidditch _**

_Dive_

_Smack_

_Dodge_

_Dive_

_Sweep_

On one level or another it was always about Quidditch. Quidditch highlighted the divisions in nations. The first signs of impending war appeared at a Quidditch World Cup. Lack of Irish political representation in Quidditch cemented resentment. Quidditch was life. Quidditch was war in the sky.

Quidditch is the only activity i've found which has been able to match the exhilaration of war. To get the blood pumping and the adrenalin roaring. It releases a part of you not seen in any other circumstances beside war and Quidditch.

It's another World Cup.

_Hit_

The first since the war ended four years ago.

The crowd practically vibrated with their excitement when we swept out onto the pitch, our names being screamed by the crowds.

_Crack_

It's Bulgaria v. Ireland. Both teams weren't in the last World Cup. Come to think of it most of Europe wasn't in the last World Cup. Now we have to play even harder to show the World that we still have it.

It's a spooky parallel, then and now. As if the last eight years never happened. As if it was beautiful and terrifying dream.

'_Wood saves! Passes to O'Brien.'_

Then of course I hear the names in the commentary and shouted by the crowd and reality hits. So many are dead only to be replaced with more battle scared youth. We never found Ryan's body and Troy can't fly any more, a result of missing an arm. Even the Bulgarian team has suffered losses as Dark Wizards migrated across Europe leaving chaos in their wake, all heading the call of Voldemort. Krum has a limp though you'd never know that whilst watching him fly.

Fuck! That Bludger was way to close.

'_Levski! Dilov__!Krastevich! __O'Brien! Moran! Levski! Back to Moran! Moran! Moran scores!'_

I hit the Bludger towards Levski. He's the biggest threat amongst the Chasers now. It's sad, so many Quidditch players killed or maimed, men and women whose names were spoken as if they were gods' themselves. All gone.

'_Fifty-forty to Ireland!' _

_Duck._

_Swing._

_Dive. _

_Intercept._

The commentator has slipped into his own language in his excitement as the Seekers dive. It's all for nothing though as Bludger's aimed by both myself and one of the Bulgarian Beaters hit both Seekers in the back. The Seekers are being seen to by the medics. I can see them talking to each other, laughing.

The whistle blows and the game starts again. It's frantic. Everybody has come to realise that our Seeker is just as good as the legendary Viktor Krum. I think the only ones who haven't gotten tense are the Seekers themselves.

---

We score. They score. It's a constant battle, back and forth. We've been flying for around twelve hours now. Everybody but the Seekers have been swapped out at least once now. I don't think they'd listen anyway if they were told to take a break.

They dive again. Possible Wronski Feint but you can never tell with these two. Our Seeker has to pull up to avoid a Bludger and Krum has to swerve to avoid a Beater.

---

The Bulgarians are ahead. Not sure by how much. Everything is starting to blur. Been flying uninterrupted for too long, another Bludger to the head sure as hell didn't help.

---

There's screaming from the crowd. I can't see what's happening. The commentator is shouting so excitedly the translation isn't coming through.

Sudden movement catches my attention as the Seekers shoot high into the air clearly chasing the elusive snitch. I lose sight of them as a Bludger streaks past. Clearly a sign to get back to work.

More cheers. It's all over.

---

The six of us congregate where our Seeker floats with the snitch held in his upraised fist. The Leprechauns are showering the crowd with gold. The cheering seems even louder than eight years ago. This time it was all down to the Seeker's as opposed to the Chasers. It's surreal. Somehow it means more than the last time. It means more to have the Irish Minster of Magic waiting for us in the top box; it means more that the World Cup will sit in the Irish Ministry for the next four years; it means more that the first time the Irish National Quidditch team plays representing a new political entity we win.

The Bulgarians are in the top box as we fly our lap of honour. Gold rains down all around us. I'm pretty sure Wood is crying as he flies. I can picture Troy, Ryan and Lynch flying around me like last time. Lynch being supported by Connolly and Moran. This is for them.

We're in the top box and the cup is there. The Minister is crying. Krum has a surprisingly accepting look on his face, the greatest Seeker in the world and he's lost the World Cup to us twice, it's got to hurt. There's pushing and shoving as we all gather around the cup and suddenly i'm holding it. I can't believe I'm holding it. Six years ago I thought I'd die in a ditch and now I'm holding the Quidditch World Cup, I can feel a hysterical laugh building in my throat. I'm jolted back to reality as O'Brien bumps me from behind and we're lifting the cup high above our heads and the fans scream, the team cries and I glance across to see our Seeker is the other person holding up the cup, his green eyes gaze into mine. I can't stop the smile that crosses my face.

Eight years ago I spotted a pair of green eyes from across the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup and fell in love.

Six years ago our lives descended into war and heart break.

Four years ago green eyes found me again and one war ended.

Three years ago a second war ended.

Two years ago he came to the realisation that despite giving his everything to England, England had nothing left to give him.

One year and nine months ago Harrison James Potter agreed to become a Quigley.

Today it was as if everything went back to the start. After all, our story started with Quidditch it's hardly surprising that it would also be defined by Quidditch.

* * *

**A/N: **Well that's it people. I thought here would be a good place to finish the story. I'm workiing with the idea that you can play Quidditch for a country after being naturalised for at least two years (i'm basing that off the rules produced by FIFA for Football). So in other words Harry has become a Irish citizen as of two years ago.

Thanks for sticking with it people. I hope you've all enjoyed the story.

Vaire


End file.
